Agueznay may no longer practice architecture, but she remains attached to foundational principles of materiality and scale. As she describes it, the 300-square-meter space in Venice will mainly be filled with upwards of 200 bands (eight feet long in two widths, up to nearly a foot) suspended from the ceiling, all woven from naturally dyed, spun wool in the Tiflet region. Some of the bands will have tactile insertions, much like a low-relief frieze; other areas of the pavilion will be teeming with small beaded creatures—scorpions, lizards, lions—that connect back to Venice (the winged lion in the Piazzetta di San Marco is an enduring symbol of the city).
There will be a designated area to sit and reflect, but Agueznay realizes some visitors may simply wander through—though hopefully not before they notice the gold within the walls. When she moved from New York back to Morocco in 1997 to be closer to her family, she began making jewelry, which will also be integrated throughout the pavilion. “At a certain point, the piece leaves the bodies and enters the space,” she said, adding that in this way, “All [my] work has a talismanic or protective quality.”
Malika Benmoumen
Photo: Ayoub El Bardii
There are also recurring nods to sacred femininity, ranging from a panel bearing a womb-like shape in henna to a remarkable piece, crafted by head artisan Malika Benmoumen and other women, that appeared to be populated with mini cocoons—forms created by crocheting over, and then removing, rocks and stones that Agueznay had gathered. “This is the memory of the pebbles,” she said.
At one point, she unfolded a traditional veil covered with vibrant orange embroidery and showed us a smaller, scarf-like iteration that the artisans could take around to find new markets. “I am very aware of my impact in the field. I never impose a technique or a way of working. It must come from them,” she explained. “I won’t ask them to change their technique. Who am I to do that? There must be respect for their craft.”
According to the pavilion’s commissioner, Mohammed Benyaacoub, Morocco’s decision to participate in the Biennale—an initiative fully financed by the minister of culture, whose budget nearly doubled between 2019 and 2026—dates back two years. “Public decision-makers have finally understood that culture is a major asset, one that had more or less been overlooked before,” he told me. “We are now realizing that we have a culture that is extremely rich, very ancient, and highly diverse. There is a real creative force there and artists today are deeply engaged in it.”
Berrada, who is 40 and based in Marrakech, dresses with a cool confidence, one day in a summery suit, the next in a vibrant tunic of azure blue and chartreuse. She is the art director of MACAAL, the Museum of African Contemporary Art Al Maaden, a must-see institution in Marrakech that exhibits the private collection of the Lazraq family. Two works from Agueznay and one from her mother are on display in its permanent exhibition.
In fact, embroidered red raffia “guardians of the thresholds” interpreted from tiles of feminine symbols created by Agueznay’s mother, Malika Agueznay—a respected painter of the post-independence generation—will also be incorporated into the pavilion. “There is always the idea of strata in Amina’s life and practice, so she integrated that in the strata to reveal what the building could have been in a past life,” Berrada explained, adding that her role is to bring structure to Agueznay’s vision. She also joked that, for all the decorative and tactile elements, the result will not appear like a massive bazaar.
